Yes, you read that headline correctly. I’m one of those idiots who will be trying to purchase an iPhone today. Actually, my girlfriend will be buying it for me as a belated birthday present (I’m still waiting for my presents from all of you to arrive). I highly doubt I’ll be able to snag one this evening, but we’re going to give it a try. The effort is newsworthy in the fact that I’m the last person in America who doesn’t own a cell phone.

Our failed effort will hopefully be concluded by 7 or 8, in plenty of time to weave through the angry traffic that will be clogging my neighborhood — van-loads of people making a pilgrimage to Memorial Park for the free KC and the Sunshine Band concert. I love KC. Always have. I can’t say the same for The Little River Band, though, who will be opening the show.

Once all that nonsense is over, I’ll likely be heading to PS Collective for Coyote Bones, Baby Walrus and NYC’s Chairlift. You already know about CB. Baby Walrus is another up-and-comer that’s on the top of my list of new local bands. The show starts at 9, which means I’ll probably miss them as I’ll still be stuck in Dundee traffic hell. That shouldn’t stop you, however.

Elsewhere this evening:

— The Nadas, Matt Whipkey and Anonymous American and The Only Children are playing a marquee show at The Waiting Room. The Nadas have a huge following (though I admit to never having heard them before). Should be crowded. $12, 9 p.m.

— Hot local underground MC Articulate will do everything he can to burn down O’Leaver’s tonight. Holding the matches and gasoline will be Bobby Dangerfield, Carnage, Capaciti, & Concentrate. $5, 9:30 p.m.

— Finally, the patron saint of Omaha hip-hop, Surreal, will be hanging up the mic for the last time tonight at Shea Riley’s as part of his CD release show. $6, 9 p.m. Brett Wertz writes about Surreal’s last show in this week’s issue of The Reader (story here).

Saturday night it’s The Stay Awake (Steve Micek’s band) at The Saddle Creek Bar with This Alibi and veteran Omaha noise-rock band Fromanhole. $5, 9 p.m. Baltimore electronic music artist Dan Deacon takes the stage at TWR with Video Hippos. Weird fun for only $8.

If I don’t see you at one of the shows, I’ll give you call…

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Here are some news blips for ya:

— Aversion is reporting (here) that The Faint are making a remix of a track off Nine Inch Nails’ Year Zero album. No idea what Trent will do with it. The story concludes with news that The Faint will be heading into the studio to record the follow-up to Wet from Birth. No word on who will be releasing it, however. Speaking of The Faint, I discovered this dance interpretation of “Posed to Death” on YouTube yesterday, featuring UNO professor Dr. David Corbin. It concludes with a serious message about plastic shopping bags that will make you think the next time the cashier asks that timeless question: “Paper or plastic?”

— Remember that column about my night spent at Crossroads Mall with Dev Hynes of Lightspeed Champion (read it here)? Well, according to DiS (here), Domino is about to release his new record. Lightspeed also will open for Bright Eyes at a couple London dates early next month, and then Tilly and the Wall in early September.

— Eagle*Seagull’s Eli Murdock e-mailed to let me know his band just finished recording their next record in Seattle with producer Ryan Hadlock (The Gossip, Blonde Redhead). Don’t look for it until early 2008, though. “We’re right in the middle of negotiations with a number of labels and after that’s finalized it’ll be at least another four to five months until release,” he said. Anyone who’s been to an Eagle*Seagull show in the past year probably has heard a few of the new songs, and is as eager as I am to have it in their hands.

Tonight, Justin Lamoureux of Midwest Dilemma celebrates his birthday at The Waiting Room with Jake Bellows (of Neva Dinova), Salt Lake City’s Drew Danburry, It’s True and Chandler Arizona’s Iji. $5, 9 p.m.

Tomorrow morning, your letters in column form.

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Friday night, for the first time in years, I did some actual bar-hopping. That’s right, I went to two different bars to see two different shows. It was like being in college again (except back then, we bar-hopped for reasons that had nothing to do with the bands…). I popped into The Waiting Room to see how well Sarah Benck’s show was drawing, knowing that it would probably “sell out” — that is, if they had actually sold tickets. Who knows why they decided to do the show for free when they could have pulled in the same crowd charging $5 to $8. Maybe because Benck and her band do so many free outdoor festivals and “events” that she wanted to keep with the theme. Or maybe she just wanted to pack people in to get them to buy the new CD. So — no surprise — the place was “at capacity.” To give you some perspective, it looked like more people were there than at TWR’s Cursive and Faint shows.

The size of the crowd brings up a point I’ve been trying to make about TWR — even when they’re at capacity, you can still freely move around that club — I’ve never felt uncomfortable at a TWR show. Prior to the club’s opening, I thought parking could be a problem — it is Benson, after all, and TWR doesn’t have a designated parking lot. But I’ve never had a problem finding a spot for my Mini within a few blocks of the place. Jim and Marc have something special with this club — good capacity, great sound, great booking, plenty of parking and good service. What more do you want?

Anyway… so I slipped in around 10 just as Benck and her band began to tear into their set. Benck was wearing the same get-up she wore in The Reader photo — leather skirt, high-heel boots, etc. You notice in a live setting just how talented her band is — all of them are poised, seasoned musicians with the confidence to lean into a solo whenever they want, just like any good road-hardened touring band. The crowd whooped it up between songs, and I gotta believe Benck sold plenty of merch that evening.

I listened to three or four songs, then high-tailed it to O’Leaver’s for Life After Laserdisque’s CD release show. Landing on the Moon had just began their set, where they revealed a handful of new songs that are dramatically different than their old material. It’s not a completely different sound, but rather a better one, thanks to arrangements that take advantage of their melodies and guitars. A few of the new ones ended with lengthy repeated (heavy) grooves that never went too long or became boring. The band says they’re getting ready to enter the studio to lay down the new stuff.

Next up was Life After Laserdisque. It’s been about a year since I’ve seen these guys, before Shawn Cox took over the vocals. Since then, LAL has evolved into some sort of super-pop-rock band, complete with call-and-response choruses (Where did she go? I don’t know…) and tight guitar solos. Cox may be one of the most underappreciated guitarists in the scene (though he seems to play in everyone else’s band). Before the set, he told the sound guy (Little Brazil guitarist Greg Epps) to put plenty of delay in the vocals. The effect transformed Cox into an indie Elvis, minus the swagger. It was a hot set, played to a happy, drunken crowd. No matter how nice all these new venues are — TWR, Slowdown — they can’t beat the old-home, where-everybody-knows-your-name reality that is O’Leaver’s. It’s like drinking at a private club where everyone becomes a member (or a regular) by merely walking through the door.

I don’t know what was in the air Saturday, but something definitely was, and I spent a good part of the afternoon convulsed in rapid-fire sneezing. By the time the evening rolled around, my head had closed shut, except for my nose, which drip-drip-dripped all night long. Luckily, TWR has plenty of dark spots where no one could see me wiping snot from my upper lip with the back of my hand (In fact, I probably could have done the ol’ stick-a-Kleenix-up-the-nose trick, but that would have been too unsettling for passersby). I got to the club just in time to see the last half of All Smiles, a rootsy indie band with a frontman whose voice resembled Neil Young’s (but without the twang). That said, there was a rural feel to their guitar-powered rock and I wish I had seen more.

Though not nearly as crowded as the prior evening, there was a large draw to see Menomena (pronounced Men-Naw-Men-Naw — like phenomena — not as I stupidly pronounced it, Men-Oh-Meen-uh). The trio featured a drummer/vocalist, keyboard/guitarist/vocalist, and frontman/vocalist/guitarist/saxophone player. Huge sound for a trio. Everything seemed keyed off the drums, which were big and brawny, the kit set up at the front of the stage so all three members could watch each other throughout the set. Trying to think of what they sounded like, the guy next to me said, “Man, it’s like early Peter Gabriel.” Bingo. Especially when the drummer sang the leads, the keyboards were in loop and the frontman added harmonies or played an odd line on baritone sax, it was 1980 Melt-era Gabriel all the way. Other times, when the keyboardist held the vocal spot, Menomena resembled early Death Cab or a more conventional indie band. They were at their best when being unconventional, however, which was most of the evening

Tonight at O’Leaver’s it’s Fromanhole with Knoxville, Tennessee bands Mouth Movements and Gamenight. $5, 9:30 p.m.

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Tomorrow night, Western Electric featuring Scott Roth of Such Sweet Thunder celebrates the release of their new CD, State Line, at The Saddle Creek Bar with Pendergast and Brother Trucker. $5, 9 p.m. Also Saturday night, Cloven Path plays with Lincolnites Ideal Cleaners and Strawberry Burns at O’Leaver’s, $5, 9:30 p.m.; while Barsuk Records band Menomena plays The Waiting Room with All Smiles and Stephanie Drootin (The Good Life). $10, 9 p.m.

Sunday, Reagan and the Rayguns (featuring Reagan Roeder and Kyle Harvey) burn up The Waiting Room stage with Lindsay Donovan, Amy Cooper and Ether Bunny. $8, 9 p.m.

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Just posted, a profile/interview with Sarah Benck and The Robbers (read it here). The story covers the band’s new album (Neighbor’s Garden), their business model (or lack of one), why American Idol sucks and where they’re headed in the future. The mantra surrounding Benck for the past few years has been, “She’s gonna be huge, just you watch.” Yet, here we are in 2007 and Benck and her band continue to play the local bar circuit, rarely leaving the city limits. We spent a lot of time talking about that during the interview, and I never got a sense that the band is pulling at the reigns to get out on the road, content to be a big fish in this small pond. Same goes for getting signed — while they’d like to be on a label, there’s either a reticence to do what it would take to make that step or a self-defeating sense that it’ll never happen. That’s somewhat unique among the bands I’ve interviewed over the years. Give them credit for being honest and knowing what they want.

About a half-dozen people read this story before it went to press. One was taken aback by the American Idol discussion — “I don’t imagine you’d ask any of the Saddle Creekers that kind of question. Did you ask her that because she’s a sweet, unassuming powerful but humble woman?” I asked her because she has what it takes to be a finalist on American Idol — the vocal chops, the looks, the personality, she’s the right age. Fact is, she almost auditioned for that INXS talent search a couple years ago, and then decided not to after reading the contract, so she’s not above doing that sort of thing. By the way, there are about four past American Idol participants currently in the Billboard top-100. She’s a pop artist playing pop music. Indie artists wouldn’t stand a chance on American Idol. Imagine Conor Oberst trying out for the show. He wouldn’t make it past the city auditions. Even the more talented Creek singers, like Orenda Fink and Maria Taylor, would never make it to Los Angeles — vocally too frail, not glamorous enough, and too old (sorry ladies). Decide for yourself if Benck and Co. have the chops to make a big splash nationally by watching them perform at their CD release show this Friday night at The Waiting Room, with opener Scott Severin and his band. You can’t beat the price — it’s free.

* * *

Funny thing about last night’s NOMO show at The Waiting Room… Don’t get me wrong, it was a great show, an inspiring show — eight people on stage tearing through a set of Americanized Afrobeat that insisted — insisted! — that you move your feet. It even got me to shrug my shoulders to the beat — a miracle. The set-up was two trumpets, a baritone sax, a tenor sax/keyboardist, bass, guitar, drums and congas. The style was big-beat African riddums, tribal drums, highlife brass/woodwind chords, funk and jazz, with plenty of improvised solos strung together by enormous, rootsy, big-sky choruses, that faded and returned like ocean waves crashing against your back, covering your head, swallowing you up, eating you whole.

The band sounded great, almost too great, almost like a Soundstage session. Every instrument was mic’d and the mix was full and balanced — a huge departure from O’Leaver’s NOMO show last year, where the band could barely fit onto the “stage,” where the audience was practically on top of them, where only two or three mic’s were available. The O’Leaver’s show was like a seedy white-trash backyard party, hot and drunk, with the best band in the world playing right in front of you. It was dirty and raw and completely unexpected, and as a result, utterly remarkable.

Last night’s show, while just as musically thrilling, was, well, cleaner, nicer, more professional, more rehearsed. The mob of dirty freeway gypsies that performed at O’Leaver’s a year ago had been transformed into a first-rate stage ensemble fit for the Holland Center. All night I anticipated a repeat of how they closed their set at O’Leavers — when the band paraded into the crowd (What the hell are they doing?!) for a final cathartic moment, coaxing every drunk to sing a wordless call-and-response chorus. It happened again last night, too, but when the time came, the band announced its intentions, then strolled (not marched) to the floor. It was still the evening’s emotional high-water mark — NOMO, surrounded by an audience of drunken, suburban dancers in the dark, desperately trying to find their roots, whether it was their roots or not.

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Only around 200 people paid to see Tortoise last night, a band that sells out shows just about anywhere else. But this is, after all, Omaha. And yet, the band couldn’t have been too dissatisfied eyeballing the crowd from stage. The main room was packed to the gills with star-struck gawkers who never thought they’d ever see the band in Omaha, let alone in the intimate confines of The Waiting Room.

I freely admit to not being a follower of Tortoise, having only heard a few of their tracks online. I can’t say I’m a complete convert after last night, either, though I dug what I heard and saw. Unlike other instrumental bands (Tristeza, The Album Leaf, etc.) the Tortoise guys were actually having a good time, judging by the grins on their faces. They were five dudes in constant motion, circling the stage, trading instruments from song to song. The guy handling guitar on one song would be behind a drum kit on the next before moving to a vibraphone and then to guitar. Constant shifts without a drop in quality, like a team of astronauts able to flawlessly perform each other’s maneuvers just in case one of them accidentally gets jettisoned.

For the uninitiated, Tortoise’s music is like listening to the real cool parts of the Risky Business soundtrack — you know, the scene where Joel and Lana make it on the train? Like that, but with the added cacophony of multiple percussion and the occasional roaring guitar. There’s a clean precision to their angular, jazzy compositions that seemed almost mathematical, though they left plenty of room to stretch beyond the sonic circuitry. The set-up involved two drummers (sometimes), a bass (sometimes two), guitarist (sometimes two) a keyboard/synthmaster, and two vibraphones (one acoustic, one digital) on either side of the stage. Video images were projected on the screen behind them — subtle digital graphics that bordered on screensavers. The hottest moments were when two drummers stared each other down from opposing drum kits set up at the front of the stage. Nice.

Only one flaw stood out amidst all that precision: About three songs into the set the drummer stopped and said, laughing, “I can’t play this.” He couldn’t hear the bass in his headphones. “We’ll try it again.” But they never could get it worked out. “OK, moving on.” It was more amusing than annoying. The only other criticism is in the “sameness” of their music, which rarely shifted tempo or dynamics — songs bled into each other — it was more of an experience than a series of musical moments. You left with a sense of what Tortoise sounds like, not with the memory of an individual song.

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The Faint are a phenomenon. I mean that with all sincerity, and without even seeing them perform last night. I got to Sokol just after 8 to catch The Berg Sans Nipple. I guess you’d call them a percussion duo — both guys played drums and other percussion instruments while also playing a variety of noise makers, synths, loops, a melodica. Each song (if you can call them that) is built upon a repeated rhythm, usually something throaty and tribal, dense and meaty. I only noticed one of the guys actually singing once during the set – the rest of the time the vocals were sampled or prerecorded, allowing them to concentrate on whatever they were pounding on at the moment. At times, there was a sort of Blue Man Group vibe going on, other times, Eno. I’ve heard them compared to Air, probably because one of the guys is French, but I didn’t notice a resemblance. By the time their set ended, the floor already was 3/4 filled and the heat was just beginning to rise.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a show upstairs at Sokol. After going to The Waiting Room and Slowdown the last few weeks, Sokol seems a bit war-torn, but it’s still one of the biggest rooms in town and a perfect setting for shows like this, with its huge sound system made even huger last night thanks to the enormous wall of subwoofers stuffed under the stage. For the first time in memory, a large steel barrier was set up in front of the stage, with a small army of blue t-shirt-clad security guys patrolling the alley like pitbulls (standard issue at sold-out Sokol shows, I’m told). In fact, I’ve never seen that many security guys at a Sokol show before (or maybe I never noticed them). The usual security precautions were in effect outside the venue, with more blue shirts frisking people on the way in — this time confiscating cigarette lighters, it was kind of like going through security at the airport. And with the recent advent of bottle-throwing incidents, every beer was poured into a plastic cup, taking away opportunities for rowdies to wing empties at the band. Who needs chickenwire fencing?

After BSN finished I decided to take off, and was told twice – once by a security guy, once by a cop – that if I stepped through that turnstile I wasn’t coming back “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Yeah, yeah, I get it. Instead, I stood in the entryway and chatted with a couple people while a small army of ticketgoers got scanned in – most of whom were 7 or 8 years old when Media came out in ’98. The Faint’s crowd is a young crowd, and seems to get younger every year.

Before I left I got a taste of those subs when Services – a synth duo whose keyboard racks were donned with florescent shop lights – kicked into their set. The bass was bone-rattling, startling. I could only imagine how loud it was going to be for The Faint. Or how hot it would be inside Sokol. It was a sweatbox standing in the doorway, and their set wasn’t going to start for another hour and a half.

The Faint are an enigma. They haven’t released a record since 2004 and their crowds just seem to grow larger. I’ve heard a few of their new songs at The Waiting Room in March. Some critics have pointed out that they seem less keyboard-driven and more straight-up rock. To me, the new stuff doesn’t stray much from Wet at Birth (which, by the way, was a pretty good album no matter what anyone says. Not as good as Danse Macabre, but that record ultimately will define their career). Imagine how huge they could be if they released a record that stretched their sound even further, instead of merely repeating themselves.

Well, if you missed it, you’ll get another chance tonight at Sokol Aud, where The Faint plays with Eagle*Seagull and Flowers Forever. As of this writing, it’s not sold out. Tickets are $15, show starts at 8 sharp. It’s a quiet weekend for shows thus far. Saturday at 8 p.m. Ted Stevens, Dan McCarthy and the ANALOG arts ensemble will present music from James Joyce’s Ulysses at the First Central Congregational United Church of Christ, 421 S. 36th Street (just south of Harney Street, just south of Kiewit Plaza and the Blackstone Hotel, just southwest of Mutual of Omaha, just southeast of McFoster’s). It’s free, in celebration of Bloomsday.

Speaking of free, Little Brazil and Drakes Hotel are doing an in-store at Homer’s downtown Saturday at 1 p.m.

Sunday’s a big night for shows. Tortoise plays at The Waiting Room Sunday night with Lichens. $15, 9 p.m. Brimstone Howl plays down at Sokol Underground with Barter the Trigger, Keep and Confess, & Eustace. $7, 9 p.m. And Bloodcow tears up O’Leaver’s with Filthy Few and Lotto Ball Show, 9:30 p.m., $5.

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